"Gentlebeings, we're beginning our final approach to Kwilaan Starport. Please check your safety belts and prepare for landing," came the announcement from the cockpit.

For a relatively short flight like this, Ayn had no problem taking a Star Tours flight from Bakura. Besides, she had spent most of the trip reading on her datapad anyways. The work in question was The Monarchist Reaction: Camilla Quorro's Rise to Power. It was a fascinating read for Ayn who had read much more deeply in Bakuran history than she had in Nabooan.

"Can I take your drink, miss?" a droid asked Ayn.

"Yes, thank you," Ayn replied, holding the plastic glass containing only ice out for the droid. Her eyes didn't leave the screen as she casually flipped with her index finger to the next page.

She would be in Keren soon.

[hr][/hr]Keren, Naboo

Dressed in a loose white blouse and a blue knee length skirt, Ayn walked up the stairs of the Jade Gate Palace, the seat of government for the city of Keren. The city was oddly quiet. People were around, but there was little going on today. It piqued Ayn's curiosity, but she didn't really care. She was here for her own reasons alone.

Dormingale pushed the heavy door of the palace and found the marble foyer similarly empty. She allowed the door to shut behind her and looked around the entryway, appreciating the old architecture. Naboo had always promoted a particular style with its beige walls and oxidized copper roofs. Their liberal use of marble in their interior spaces was certainly impressive and awe inspiring.

"Excuse me, miss, but the court is not in session today," came a voice echoing off the high ceilings.

Ayn turned to face the source of the comment. "I don't have business with the court," she replied.

"Well we're not open to the public when we're not in session," an older human male said, "You have to leave."

"Forgive me, I've come a long way to see this place," Ayn said. She turned on her smile. "It's rather important to me, " she said, trying to charm her way in.

The man stopped and squinted. "You...what's your name?"

"My name is Ayn Dormingale."

"Ayn Dormingale...and your accent?"

"Bakuran."

The man cocked his head and then the corners of his mouth turned up in a smile. "Yes...you would be. You're related to Sabé Dormingale, aren't you?"

"She is my grandmother," Ayn admitted. She'd expected to play this card and she knew it would be played best if she held it until asked.

"Come," the man said, "For you, there are no closed doors here."

The man led her down one of the impressive hallways to another set of large doors. He pushed one of them open. Ayn stepped through and into a long darkened hall. Daylight streamed in through one set of windows. She slowly walked across the marble floor and looked around her. The room felt oddly familiar, though she knew she had never been to Naboo. Ayn closed her eyes and when she opened them...she was surrounded by memories that were not her own.

The great hall was filled with the elites of the city of Keren in their archaic, ornate dress. Around her couples swirled in carefully choreographed movements. Lights gently and warmly illuminated the room. Fabric and color swirled around Ayn. It was a strange but intoxicating world.

In the middle of the floor was...herself.

This other Ayn was dressed in Nabooan fashion, twirling in the measure of the music, passed from one partner to the next in the intricate footwork of the dance. She moved with grace, poise, and confidence. She belonged here, among these beings, in this society. She moved with the certainty of birthright. The eyes of the room were focused upon her in the middle of the rotating couples.

Ayn blinked again and then it was gone, the hall dark.

"Your grandmother held court here...over 50 years ago..." the man was saying from where he stood by the doors, "She was much loved. When Queen Camilla consolidated power..."

"She arrested Lord Cavill," Ayn said, "and then had him killed."

"Some say he killed himself in prison," the man said, "Even now the truth isn't precisely known. The official version is quite clear. But when she consolidated power, your grandmother was one of the few who spoke in favor of the democratic model. The death of Lord Cavill, one of her allies, convinced those who supported her that she would be next and shed fled."

"And if she had kept her mouth shut, she would have received the same deal that the rest of the elected nobles got: their titles made hereditary and their local power guaranteed," Ayn said, "And today I might be Princess of Keren."

"I have no doubt that you would have been an excellent one," the man said.

Perhaps I would have been, Ayn thought, but the Force saw differently. I am not Princess Ayn...and I do not wish to be.

Ayn turned back to the door. "Thank you...I was coming to Naboo on other business and I thought I should see where I came from."

"I only wish that the court was not in Theed for Queen Eleanor's birthday celebrations," the man said as Ayn walked back to him, "It would have been their pleasure to have received you formally."

"No, it was better that it was this way," Ayn said with an appreciative smile, "Give my regards to the Prince."

"If you have a moment, there is one more thing I think you should see."

[hr][/hr]
Ayn stood before the painting and regarded it.

"It's how I thought I knew you might be related to her," the man said.

"Yes, I see," Ayn said thoughtfully as she continued her contemplation.

"It was lucky that your grandmother sat for a state portrait before...she had to leave," the man said, "The portrait was not hung during Queen Sofia's reign, but rediscovered once she..."

Ayn nodded, saving him any further explanation. Sofia Quorro had been declared insane during her reign. She had produced no heir and it was this circumstance that resulted in Eleanor becoming monarch of Naboo. Ayn could see why Sabé might not have been popular under Sofia's rule.

"It was found a number of years ago in a basement, nearly forgotten. We have hung it with pride ever since," the man said. He paused. "I feel it by rights belongs to your grandmother. We could make arrangements if you like..."

"No," Ayn said, "It belongs here, with you. Thank you, for showing me this, for showing me the palace." She gave the man a gentle kiss on the cheek. "I will be a better being for it."

Sam and the assistants looked over everyone in the draft. They needed several positions including a back up for Jenna and a goalkeeper because Brad Pamjer is retiring this year. Everything was a tough stretch to try and keep up with the draft. Every time they settle on a player they are taken in the draft. Sam made her choice. They needed a corner back first. so it was decided and Sam didn't wait till the others agreed though it would have been unanimous.

With the ninth overall pick in the 273 ELL draft the Onderon Crazy Dragons select Right Corner back Michelle Doss from The Ord Sabaok University. Mando'ade Mercs are on the clock.

The Draft continued along its odd progression. The Jets had continued falling back in the Draft order and Vhett wasn't sure just what their gameplan was. Being back in the "war room" she couldn't observe their table in the Draft Hall to making any judgments, but it seemed incomprehensible that they didn;t have some sort of game plan here.

Of course she had her own problems to deal with. The Mercs had traded up in order to snare the athletic Forward Tam from the university of Shili, but hadn't been able to get in touch with her to let her know. Even her agent, a solemn Muun whose name Vhett could care less about claimed he didn't know her current whereabouts. Only after a few less than subtle threats did he finally divulge her location and a means to contact her...

[hr] [/hr]

IC: Jaya "Barefoot" TamGrasslands of Shili

Jaya curled up her toes, feeling the loose dirt compact between them. The warm earth had enough moisture to prevent it from becoming a dust cloud that would betray her position, but not enough that she was in any danger of wallowing in mud. It also allowed for firm and distinct tracks to be formed, tracks she was using to stalk her prey now.

Grasping her spear she sniffed at the air. Excellent she remained down wind from her quarry. She shifted slightly, using the tall turu grass as concealment. She was nearly close enough, soon it would be time to laucnh her weapon at the large herbivore and take her prize. She glanced back and locked eyes with her father, his grin showed off his prominent incisors. The pair of them went on a hunt every year at this time, it provided a wonderful way to spend time together after the end of another tough school year.

Of course last year had been her last school year, and under the advice of her agent she had declared for the ELL draft. It was a tough choice for her, she always wanted to remember her roots, but she wasn't sure if the life as an ELL player would steal that away from her. That made this time with her family all the more important. She winked to her father and turned her attention back to the grass eater. So close, just a few moments more...

Suddenly she felt the sensation of her com-link buzzing and vibrating. Distracted for a moment she failed to sense the wind shift, it carried the slight noise of the com-link along with her own scent to her prey which bolted off into the distance. Jaya never even had a chance to sling her spear at the retreating animal.

"Kriff!" she shouted. It would take most of the day to track down the animal again. She shrugged back to her father before looking to her com-link again. She hated even bringing it along on a hunt, but did so for safety reasons. Still she had told everyone not to contact her right now. Reluctantly she lifted the com link and activated it. It was her agent. "I Know, I know," he started before she could berate him. "But you've been drafted."

She nearly dropped the link in shock. Her agent had told her he didn't think she would go until late in the first round, maybe early second at best. But this was the best way to get her name in the spotlight, get the ELL to take notice of her, and even if she went undrafted maybe a team would take a flyer on her as an undrafted free agent. This shouldn't have happened today. She looked to the sun, doing some calculations in her head. The Jets should have been on the clock when she was taken, maybe the Monarchs if the Draft was going quickly. Too bad, she really wanted to play for one of the new ELL teams, the Lightning, they seemed like a perfect fit for her. "Who?" she asked nervously. "It's the Mercs, I have their GM on the line..."

For the second time in as many minutes she almost dropped the link. The Mercs? She had to admit that her style of play might fit their new offense, but it was a Mandalorian team. Mandalorians liked their protective garb, and were not very tolerant of other viewpoints. She looked down to her bare feet, wondering if they knew about her own "quirks." She doubted it, and doubted even further that they would be understanding.

"Jaya this is Vhett," came through the com-link. "Are you there?" Jaya shook her head, clearing it. "uhh yes Ms. Vhett, thank you for this opportunity, I am excited to join the team..." they continued on speaking for a few moments, but Jaya was barely paying attention. All she could think to her self was The Mercs? Why did it have to be the Mercs?

[hr] [/hr]

IC: Aay'han VhettMercs "War room" Klivian Hall, Ralltiir

Vhett disconnected the line, confident they had their new reserve foreard on board. By all accounts she was athletic enough to run the mercs new offense, and she also filled a position of need. Vhett looked back to the big board, the Crazy Dragons had just made their pick, now it was the Mercs turn again. They had drafted for a position of need with their first pick. Now it was time to draft for depth. She signaled back to Fortune again who made his way to the stage.

"With the 9th pick in the draft the Mando'ade Mercs pick Gargova Broussard, Forward, Coruscant Air Fleet Academy." There was a mixture of cheers and boos from the Mercs fans who had made the trip to Ralltiir. "The Ryloth Rough Riders are now on the clock."

Jaya comes from a large family and as the fifth of sixth children is used to fighting for everything she has. She greatly enjoys working with others, though in the end her natural talent and fighting spirit have always led to her assumption of a leadership position. A traditionalist, she enjoys the hunt and living as one with nature. One aspect of this led to her nickname amongst other players at the university of Shilli, "Barefoot", as Jaya eschews the wearing of shoes. Shoes spiritually cut her off from the land around her, something she finds particularly troubling.

This led to problems with the GCAA as she desired to play the game of limmie barefoot as she always had done growing up. Initially the GCAA denied her, citing safety concerns for her, but after nearly a year of hearings and appeals they eventually relented allowing her to go barefoot during games on religious grounds. Now she has entered the draft, where she is again prepared to fight for a starting position on a professional Limmie team.

Phil had gone to the draft to see who the Jets would draft, and as he watched, the team was on the clock, and the clock ticked down, ticking off Phil. Slowly his rage built until he could take no more. He began the storm the stage. First though he'd have to get onto the floor as he was in the back. That was to be an endeavor all it's own, as no one would let him past.

Instead of cooperating with the security staff, Phil decided kicking them in the head was a more appropriate measure. After about the third kick the numbers began to play against Brooks, causing him to swiftly move himself out of the action, but into the direction of the stage. After running for a short distance with security not far behind, Phil burst onto the stage.

"Since our esteemed General Manager doesn't want to do his job, I'll do everything, as usual. We'll pick Marseille Wallace, Full Back, VCU." Phil barked out, then quickly jumped into the crowd, darting through people and remaining just ahead of security.

Brooks was indeed just ahead of security, but with his concentration focused on evading the security forces he neglected to see the Gamorean in a Starkillers jersey who was headed back to his seat with his spicy nachos.

SMACK!

"Noooooooooo," the Gamorean cried in its native tongue, "My nachos!" The sight of the spilled chips and hot cheese on the floor of the hall was truly a pitiful sight.

The Vandelhelm forward had wound up a lot like the nachos, on the floor. That had given security the opportunity to dog pile onto the Numifolis Award winner.

"Well, that was unexpected," Quinn Cundertol said to no on in particular from the Miners' table in the Hall, twisted in his seat to look at the mound of sentient beings, "Marseille Wallace, who would have thought?"

[hr][/hr]Security office, Klivian Hall, Ralltiir

"Mr. Brooks, it's...good to see you," Esther Gondorf said with less enthusiasm than she felt from the other side of the table, "First things first. The League will be fining you for your conduct today, 40,000 credits plus medical costs for the security staff injured in today's...events shall we call them? That number goes up to 50,000 credits if you choose to forego the apology to the staff." She smoothed her hair to gain a bit of composure. "As for your actions...we've spoken with management from the Jets and they have apparently upheld your pick. And since you're on the scene, they've apparently empowered you to make the remainder of the Jets picks." Though I have no idea why they'd reward such behavior. "We would like to ask that you not injure anyone else for the remainder of the Draft. Or preferably ever," Gondorf added hopefully.

It seemed like he had just sat down. Now Zeke was back up at the podium to announce another Ryltoh draft pick.

Zeke was secretly hoping that this draft would go fast so he could have more time with his fiance and time to plan the upcoming wedding. But his job came first. The Rough Riders were focusing on building up a strong defense during the off season, and the draft was no exception. Zeke got to the podium, undid the envelope just like he did two picks ago, and read aloud. "With the 12th pick in the 273 draft the Ryloth Rough Riders select Trisa Hekla (Hapan, Female, GVSU, Left Corner Back)."

Phil looked on as Esther spoke to here. He slumped back in his chair, resting his elbows as he sat on his lower back. He was only half listening to her as she spoke. Something about a fine, he didn't care. As she finished, there was a pause before Phil spoke.

".....Oh, are you done?" He asked sarcastically, then stood up and began to walk away. "Good chat, good chat, I'm just going to go now, so I'll see you around." He walked out without even looking back or listening for a response.

As he stepped out, he heard the Jets were back on the clock. Deciding he shouldn't wait too long he headed back to the stage, in the process pushing over a pitcher of blue milk that sat on a catering table, then picking up some sort of small snack cake. He munched on it as he walked onto the stage, most likely much to the surprise of the audience.

He walked up to the podium, and ripped the mic off of it's holder, then proceeded to blow into it. "Check, check, check....you guys aren't going to cut this thing out on me are you? Anyway, the Jets choose, Paul Tullo." Phil tossed the mic back on the podium and walked away, the sound of feedback filling the room as he moved back off the stage.

Kayl'hen just looked at Brooks in disbelief. She said absolutely nothing during the entire spectacle. Once Brooks had left, a technician ran out to fix the microphone. Hopefully it still worked--blowing on a microphone was one of the worst things you could do to it. Civilized beings snapped their fingers in front of one or spoke a couple words.

The Crazy Dragons were now on the clock and Sam was looking at the holo's of draft choices. They needed defense but also a reserve goalkeeper. It was a tough decision but Sam had been through this before.The picks were limited but she was sure to find a diamond in the rough.

The assistants were scrambling to get the holo's out for Ms Poland. She was looking stern at them for any type of delay.

This one has alot of speed Sam said looking at a offensive player. She switched the holo's at the remaining goalkeepers.

"I really wanted Roz Cartel but she was picked already." she said with a nonchalant attitude. She looked up to one of her assistants and said "You know what to do."

"With the twentieth pick of the 273 ELL draft the Onderon Crazy Dragons select Goalkeeper Zakvar'una of the University of Sanbra."

After the Starkillers pick Lucie took her seat and watched as a few other teams made their picks, then just after the representatives from Onederon left the stage a commotion erupted from the spectator section. Lucie looked up just in time to see several security guards go down as they were kicked in the head by some lunatic audience member. Lucie’s first thought was that it was some out of control fan who was unhappy about the last pick, but when the assaulter came into view he was none other than Jets player Phil Brooks.

Phil was just as obnoxious in person as he was on HSN highlights. Despite the swarm of security Phil was able to make his way to the stage with just enough time to make the Jets delayed pick before scrambling back down the floor in an attempt to outrun the perusing army of security guards. Lucie could see what was going to happen next even before it happened. A Gamorrean fan she had seen at more than one Starkillers game last season was dressed in his Ye'ves'toung Jersey he was making a long detour back towards his own seat so he could walk as close as possible to her own table and he had just finished giving her a wink. In his arms were a huge tray of fresh nachos with a bowl of spicy cheese on the side. Brooks was only paying attention to those chasing him and failed to see the large Gamorrean right in front of him so the inevitable happened. They collided.

The disgusting fatty foul smelling cheese went everywhere. Lucie jumped from her seat and ran to the other side of the hall to avoid being splattered. She was grateful that she avoided getting on her and that she had the sense to get out of the way. Others at her table were not so lucky. General Manager Ira Clarke’s entire left side was covered in the goo.

Before the incident was even over, Lucie made her way back stage to meet up with the other dancers waiting to perform during the second round. She would not be going back to that table tonight, she decided. Besides there were only a couple of picks left and it was always good to be ready. She and the other dancers performed a warm up in the back hallway while the first round wrapped up. Finally it was time to take the stage.

Performing at Klivian Hall was amazing. It was so much more civilized to perform on a stage than a Limmie Field. Lucie pretended her audience was dignified, she ignored the whistles from the balcony and lost herself in the art of dance. They finished up with a short Starkillers cheer and a big welcome for Dev Poletin. Starkillers fans were on their feet. Lucie’s smile was genuine as she waved and made her way backstage.

Because I had forgotten about other commitments today, I am extending the third round of the draft through tomorrow evening. I have not received many picks so please try to get those in to me promptly. As I indicated earlier, if you would like to know who has been selected ahead of your picks, I will be happy to oblige. Picks not made by the end of Sunday will be lost. If you already have your picks in, many thanks!

It's about halfway through the game, and they've just barely got a lead over Ord Mantell. One second she's kicking the ball up to Rishal - she sees her bend to catch it and she's off - and the next there's a blinding pain of an impact in her shoulder, her bad shoulder, and when her vision clears she's on her back. A whistle must have been blown at some point because Litan and Syra are bent over her, but her hearing's faded with the pain. Slowly, it comes back, and she can hear their voices, just barely over the sounds of the crowd. The game's on Ord Mantell, so it's probably for the best that she can't make out what they're saying.

The twi'lek sisters help her up and Zoa makes her way off the field, where the trainers try to usher her away and Sunlua's already giving Subal the tap to substitute in. But the pain's already fading after that initial shock, and she opens her mouth to argue with the coach, the trainers, whoever is trying to take her out of one of the biggest games of her career.

"I'm good to play," she shouts over another roar of the crowd, but Sunlua points at her shoulder.

"You might be but that's not." The Falleen makes it clear that's the last she's saying on the subject. Zoa lowers her head angrily, but the game's already continuing without her. A hand clamps on her good shoulder, and she whirls around, her anger activating her instincts to gore someone, anyone, on her horns, but it's Dr. Kraraal. If their doctor's come out to deal with her...

She submits, allowing herself to be led away. They scan and poke and prod and Kraraal gives her some pain blockers now that the adrenaline is fading. There's no way she can go back into the game, but she knows, she knows they need her. Zoa's their captain and it's not a job she takes lightly.

Some time with bacta, rehab, the usual story, but Zoa doesn't care about her recovery right now.

"Can it wait?" she asks, almost pleading. "I need to be out there." Before Kraraal can interrupt, she clarifies. "Not on the field, I know I'll be a... liability. On the bench. Please."

Arm in a temporary sling to keep the weight off her shoulder, she jogs back to their bench and smiles at the reserve players and staff. I'm not leaving you, her smile said.

Their lead only grew, even without her on the field, and she found herself shouting cheers at every point added. The clock expired and the score said 27-16 Ylesia. They'd done it.

The crowd was disappointed, but Zoa didn't notice. She ran onto the field, joining the pile of jumping and screaming teammates. Her shoulder was jostled but she barely felt it, too eager to pat the others on the back, hug them, shout unintelligibly with them. They'd done it.

There was a presentation of the awards, which Zoa needed help from Syra to lift, a team holo that everyone needed for their homes, and then someone shouted about Corellian ale back in the locker room, so they all streamed off the field as fast as their limbs could carry them.

Everyone was exhausted, but a celebration was in order and this time, Zoa wasn't about to stop their fun. They'd earned it, every one of them. She even managed to dodge the training staff to keep them from taking her away from the party to deal with her shoulder. It could wait, they had the entire offseason to make it better.

Hours later, when the crowd had long cleared out, the party spilled back out onto the field, where they could take more personal holos and smoke celebratory cigars someone had dug out. With loads of ale and wine and all sorts of other liquors still available (no one was entirely sure where it came from, but their GM had indulged a little just in case), the party didn't look to stop any time soon, though it calmed down slightly from their initial rush of emotion.

Zoa was sitting down on the field, just meters away from where she'd been hit, chatting with Tung and nursing her current bottle of ale. The rest of the team were scattered around, no one wanting to be the first to leave. Veiana and Kasin were laying down, passing a cigar back and forth; Nolli was taking holos of a few others in ridiculous poses; Ralkyysh and Mallarhynn were sitting quietly together.

They'd won. All problems of the last few weeks were forgotten, and there was nothing that could ruin their celebration.

----------

The next morning - actually, afternoon, but she didn't care - Zoa woke up to a familiar, welcome face. She smiled at Lorn and shifted over to make space, but something on his face told her that wasn't why he'd woken her.

"You need to see the holonews," he said, and without waiting, turned it on. Zoa sat up in surprise. The reporter was talking in scathing tones about Ylesia's celebration, while playing holos of their party on the field - on Ord Mantell's field, too, the reporter stressed. She reached for her comlink, thinking to call the team, make sure they knew, but stopped. GM To would take care of this.

"They make it look so bad." She couldn't tear her eyes from the holos. "It wasn't indecent, just... on their field." Lorn shrugged and finally sat down next to her on the bed before shutting down the holo.

"I just wanted you to know," he said, warm voice calming. "You can deal with it later." Lorn's eyes grew mischievous. "But now that you're awake-" Zoa cut him off with a pillow to the face.

"I guess not."

----------

Their supposed transgressions were all over the holos in Ylesia when they returned, but they survived it by offering a token apology and claiming it was a misunderstanding.

"I'd rather host a party on our field, the stadium's better, the scenery's better, and the fans are a lot better," Kasin told a reporter, smirking all the while.

The Jets were in the clock, but this time Phil had no intentions of moving fast. Instead he opted to take his time, drawing on the moment for as long as possible. Each passing second he seemed to make himself move slower and slower, until he finally decided to step onto the stage.

Walking up to the podium, he looked at the crowd, from left to right, front to back. He leaned into to microphone as if he were going to start talking, then positioned himself upright yet again, continuing his long "assessment" of the room. He stepped off the podium and opened his arms to the sky, slowly spinning himself around with a smirk on his face. After three slow rotations his slowly dropped his arms to his side and looked across the room once more before raising his hand into the air. After holding it there for a moment, he stepped back to the podium to announce the pick.

"We'll take Kerriryyh." He unceremoniously announced before making his way off the stage, telling everyone mockingly telling everyone thank you, bowing to the crowd, and blowing kisses to the crowd.

The entire CorTech team was sitting in the team room, watching the Elite League Draft. Martin was slowly sipping on a beer, taking everything in stride. Last season had been a tough one for Martin; the Mean Green had finished last in their division, and he was hearing rumors that his job might be on the line soon if he didn’t right the ship. Last season, he had a veteran team and had beaten two of CorTech’s bitter rivals in the U of C (for an amazing third straight season) and the Air Fleet Academy. But once again the trifecta of trophies had fallen from his grasp, as the College of Fondordelphia had taken home the Golden Datapad once again. That had been another bad-blood game, and Paul Tullo of the Ions and Malida Worody of CorTech had been jawing at each other, even fighting at one point because of the hit Worody had been subjected to by Tullo’s older brother Ike two season earlier. What had become a friendly rivalry was now just as bitter as the Battle for the Capital and Brains and Brawn Brawl.

The Euceron Storm had made their selection, so the Ralltiir Starkillers were now up with the de facto fifth pick. "With the now-fifth selection in the 273 Elite League draft, the Ralltiir Starkillers select Dev Poletin, Full Back, Coruscant Polytechnic Institute. The Jets remain silent and so the Bakura Miners are now on the clock."

The room exploded. “Dev! Dev!” the team chanted in unison as they saw their old teammate walk up to receive his jersey from the GM of the Starkillers. The Whipid smiled all the way up to the podium, and gladly accepted the orange and navy blue jersey that was handed to him. Martin just sighed; even though his players weren’t always the best in the Super 16, they certainly were cranking out draft-ready players. Gayla Renhorn had gotten the party started in 271, being drafted second overall in the inaugural ELL Draft. Teammates Tank Bratter and Reena Wyley had been taken in the third and second rounds, respectively. In 272, Dyslo Rol’per hadn’t been drafted, unfortunately, but he was now sticking it out with Thyferra with his old teamamtes Bratter and Wyley. Now Dev was going to play a prominent role on Ralltiir this next season, and Lomin Matema, the Talz goalie, was still left on the Top Prospects board.

“That makes two first-round picks in the last three years for CorTech,” the announcer said.

“Hey Alex, I think your sister had more of a profound effect on our program than you thought,” Martin said. Alex Renhorn, a senior transfer forward, looked at her coach. She had played her first two years of college ball off-world, but after Gayla had made a show at CorTech, her younger sibling decided to transfer to CorTech and keep up the Renhorn legacy there.

“Yeah, I’d say she did,” the senior said. “I think its most of the reason why Morgan decided to sign a while back.” Morgan Renhorn, who had just graduated from high school, had signed with CorTech during the offseason, and was projected to start in the Front 6 for the Mean Green right off the bat. The youngest Renhorn sister was supposed to be quite the talent, but as usual the question was whether her high school game would carry over to college in the S16. Malida had come out well as a freshman, but the last few touted freshmen hadn’t quite panned out as planned thus far. Perhaps Ava wasn’t meant to be a defender, Martin thought; she had been a two-way star in high school, but as a defender in college she hadn’t done well at all. Perhaps it was time to switch her to offense?

As the Draft moved along, it looked more and more likely that Lomin wasn’t going to be taken at all. This hurt the entire team, mostly because they wanted to see their program get an extra boost. If two players were taken in the same Draft, then CorTech would be given more sight in the eyes of the galaxy. The 271 Draft had been a special one for the Mean Green, and everyone was hoping that the 273 and 274 Drafts were going to be inundated with CorTech players. There were no other options but to go up; it was time for CorTech to shine once again.

Klivian Hall buzzed. Who was this Eve Wupiupi? Quick Holonet searches uncovered that she was a Zelosian who had played for the Commenor Blues in college. Once again, the Monarchs went off the draft board like they had in selecting the unheralded Vesper Lynd.

"With the thirty first pick overall the Onderon Crazy Dragons...I'm sorry, the Crazy Dragons are not ready," Kayl'hen said.

Another ripple went through the hall. The clock ticked what seemed like extra loudly for several minutes.

"Time has expired on the Crazy Dragons pick," Kayl'hen said. Klivian Hall murmured again in surprise. "We will proceed to the Rydonni Prime Monarchs. With the thirty first pick overall, the Rydonni Prime Monarchs select...Aley Helios, Left Corner Back, University of Nessem Dire-Cats."

The Monarchs pulled another surprise out of their hat. And a 20 year old junior who had declared for the Draft early at that. There was going to be a lot of attention paid to these young draft picks that Setarcos Rhemes had made.

"That concludes the 273 Elite League Draft. Thank you gentlebeings for joining us here today and thank you to the Ralltiir Starkillers for partnering with the League to create a memorable draft day experience for all attendees, players, and officials. We look forward to the start of the Elite League season in a few months and look forward to seeing some of the players selected here today contribute to a fantastic season," Kayl'hen said, "Take care, and we hope to see you fans here again next year."

“Finally, time to do something,” Gark said to no one in particular. The third round of the Draft had just begun, and the Senators had a third-rounder to use. As always, the pool of talent had been heavily picked over, so finding a diamond in the rough to stash on Thyferra for a while was the big idea here.

As names went off the board, Gark found the list shrinking with every pick. This excepted Rydonni Prime, who as usual in the Third Round made a pick that was outside of the Top Prospects board, so another name on the board was going to be left over. After the Monarchs made their pick, Gark started to rifle through names fast. There was nothing left in the defense category on the board, and little offense. Right now, the Senators had a surplus of offense, so Moval wasn’t going to be drafted here. Perhaps if he was available in free agency the Senators would take a flier on him, but not here.

“Lots of midfielders left,” Me’lin commented.

“I don’t think we need one . . .” Gark mused. “We already have a solid midfield foursome. That doesn’t include the two draft picks from a couple years ago down at Thyferra.” He was mentioning Sarya Dilvam and Tonga Rute, who had been drafted by Thyferra two years earlier. “Plus Lai down there, and we have plenty of youth and experience. Why draft a middie?”

“Defense looks weak at this point,” Me’lin replied. “If we take a guess and pick someone off the board, we’re taking an awful risk. Besides, there’s a Helmsman finalist left on the board.”

“What’s the verdict in there?” Pamila Korthe asked over the comlink from out in the hall.

“We’re taking Pers,” Gark said. “Can’t pass up on him at this point.”

“Oh goody, another middie to fit into the system down there,” Pam commented. “I’m sure Artie will be thrilled to get another Draft pick to warp in his own way.”

Gark messaged in the pick almost immediately. The Draft must have been especially weak this year if Pers was still available this late. Perhaps trading away two higher draft picks hadn’t been such a bad idea after all?

Anyone still searching for players can consult the free agent thread. This can be found in our library thread. This thread also includes all players not taken in this year's ELL Draft, who now may be signed by any team.

The roster freeze goes into effect after Week 3 games have been played, so you have three weeks to bring in any outside players or make any trades.